Royal Ballet Quad Bill

If a thematic theme runs through this quadruple bill from the Royal Ballet then I am totally at a loss as to what it is. Perhaps Wheeldon's new "Electric Counterpoint" might vaguely relate to "Afternoon of a Faun" both, at least on some level, look at how dancers see themselves. "Tzigane" (a new aquisition of no particular merit) and "A Month in the Country" carry none of this meaning. This makes the production a far more accessible evening than the last Royal Ballet triple bill, which was a little on the heavy side. A wide range of styles are on show but it lacks the cohesion that could be present.

The excitement largely centred on the world premiere from Christopher Wheeldon, "Electric Counterpoint". A fusion of live dancers with projected recordings of them, it walked a fine line between substance and gimmick. The piece divided into two distinct halves. The first part, set to Bach piano music, had each of the four dancers dancing short solos with a digital version of themselves. Wheeldon has also recorded interviews with each of the dancers, chunks of which are blended into the music. These recording are both fascinating and completely inconsequential. It was bizarre to hear them speak. Despite knowing Sarah Lamb was American, she appears such the English rose that I found hearing her American accent a little off putting. Eric Underwood could do much to convince the general public that there is nothing camp about ballet, he sounds a bit like Samuel L Jackson (awesome in other words). Despite the novelty of actually hearing what dancers sound like, what they had to say was largely repetitive and more than a little depressing. Edward Watson comes across far too like the Macmillan characters he so often dances (he does dance them very well). "I don't like my hands" he tells us. Do we as an audience really want to know? The whole self pitying theme (there's quite a lot of "gosh isn't dancing a trying, difficult profession" from all four) did nothing to get me interested and managed to distance me yet further from the dancers (which is especially surprising considering the Ballet Boyz are attached to this production and they are world leaders at making dancers seem less aloof). The projections largely worked well here, Sarah Lamb dancing in time with her alter digital ego brought back the best of Hiroaki Umeda's digital work, but strayed into gimmickery with Eric Underwood's appearance from the side of the screen and Zenaida Yanowsky leading her much larger digital self along by the hand. The piece changes sharply with the move into the second section as the minimalist sound of Steve Reich takes over. The projections continue but the choreography becomes unmistakably Wheeldon. From here on out the dancers worked very hard dashing about to the pulsating Reich score. Underwood is a stunning partner for Yanowsky, we really need to see more from him, and Lamb looked absolutely divine. Edward Watson didn't seem entirely on the ball, although I might just have been feeling sorry for him after his miserable sounding solo. The dancers are duplicated all over the large architectural set (not dissimilar to Chroma's, the last Royal Ballet premiere) to stunning effect and the opening and closing of the doors led to some startling imagery. As a work in its entirety, I'm still unsure whether this has much merit. So distracted by all the flashing lights and voiceovers, I quite forgot there was any substantial dancing at all. I'm seeing it again, later in the run, when hopefully I'll have found some of the novelty has rubbed off. At this point I don't see it remaining in the repertory. To recreate it with a new cast would be expensive, they'd have to rerecord everything and so personal is the opening section I suspect that would all have to be rechoreographed. This might all seem a bit harsh, I was certainly entertained for thirty minutes and the dancers are on fine form, it just feels more like a worthy experiment and not a substantial piece.

"Afternoon of a Faun" is very short but conveys a great deal. Carlos Acosta was on prime form as the boy whilst Sarah Lamb, who changes mode very quickly from the previous piece, looks absolutely stunning as the girl. Acosta gazes into the mirror (that is the audience) with an intense fascination, albeit with himself, but his relationship with Lamb was potent in its distance. Rarely do they look at each other, more concerned with their own images than the other person. All too brief but a fine performance of a very fine work.

"Tzigane" is a new acquisition and I've no idea why the Royal Ballet bothered. Marianela Nuñez did well enough although casting her in the Balanchine, whilst Ansanelli danced the Ashton, on opening night is totally inexplicable. Nuñez is the finest Ashton dancer we have whilst Ansanelli is ex-New York City Ballet, so knows a thing or two about Balanchine. Nuñez lacked her usually joyful expression preferring a smouldering gypsy look she can't quite bring off. Thiago Soares should be given a medal for being about the only dancer in the entire evening who seemed to be enjoying dancing. The eight backing dancers were unnecessary, doing little more than standard villager dancing. All hops and turns with hands on hips. Without massive flair from the solo girl the piece just felt flat, disappointing.

"A Month in the Country" came to save the day. Bearing absolutely no resemblance to anything that came before, this piece has everything I love about Ashton ballet's; a tightly constructed story and a mix of serious and comic dance, plus prop orientated dances I don't hate. Julia Trevelyan Oman's sets have aged beautifully, intricately detailed they are a joy to behold. Alexandra Ansanelli was miscast as Natalia, far too beautiful and youthful looking (despite her odd Princess Leia style haircut) plus her upper body was poor. When she flung back her arms as to open a door in anger so histrionic was it that a titter passed through the audience. she appeared to be crying out, please cast me in some Balanchine. Ivan Putrov is perfectly cast as the tutor who manages to fool around with all the women of the house without realising he's doing anything wrong. He has a boyish insouciance that come across through his every movement. The supporting cast were largely superb although Paul Kay's solo with the ball was a little scrappy. Iohna Loot's feet fluttered about as the naive girl, infatuated with the tutor, she looked every bit the part. A lovely ballet.

A varied evening, but overall a little disappointing. I suspect "Electric Counterpoint" will get a single revival next year with the same cast, just so the Royal Ballet can make some of the cost back (I suspect it was expensive), but will then fall into obscurity. A decent experiment but ultimately a failure. The rest of the evening was strong but didn't show the Royal Ballet at their very best. If they'd swapped round Nuñez and Ansanelli, a great many problems would have been solved. An evening of nice variety but no real successes.

Salome

A dirty production of a nasty opera, and that's a compliment. From the get go, everything about this production is disgusting. From the hanging animal flesh (and repellent pig's head in the background) to the naked servant girl being manhandled by a guard, nothing here is anything other than grotesque. Above the stage a dinner party occurs. Juxtaposed with the setting below, the decandent party feels almost more disgusting. David McVicar is ever reliable (with a string of recent hits including his recent stunning ENO, Turn of the Screw) providing an efficient staging, with a particularly fascinating Dance of the Seven Veils.

In the title role of Salome, Nadja Michael is well cast. She's doesn't provide the round, rich sound that emanated from Deborah Voigt at the proms last year but her lower range is particularly beautiful and she doesn't miss any of the higher stuff. That said she sounded a little harsh in some of the more lyrical flowing passages especially in some of the creepy, head loving business towards the end. Her acting is impeccable, the disgust she conjures from her infatuation with the head of Jokanaan makes Herod's order for her death inevitable. Her long limbs, smeared with blood caressing the severed head is an image I will not soon forget. Pre-beheading, Michael Volle makes for a fantastic Jokanaan. The sheer size of both his body and voice make for an imposing package. The vast sound that rose from beneath the stage was unsettling and on stage he is a figure of strange, mighty power. Salome's sudden morbid obsession with him is almost unsurprising. Thomas Moser sings Herod nicely enough but somehow his performance slipped me by. In this production there are strong implications that he has had sexual relations with Salome (likely since she was a child) but aside from the chilling dance, this was never terribly clear from his slightly bumbling performance. His final cry for her death was weighty and powerful but otherwise he never really commanded the stage. His wife, Herodias, also lacked any particular impact. Michaela Schuster sings with accuracy and fine tone but she lacks attack. Her support for Salome's terrible request seems somewhat out of character for this lovely housewife. It just didn't really make sense. The orchestra was commanded by Philippe Jordan who created a wonderful, decadent world of sound. There were some "interesting" brass notes but these were mere blips in a very fine performance.

The staging is unremittingly bleak. Nudity and/or violence are never far away. Several sections drag, for reasons I cannot quite put my finger on. The excitement of the loud, aggressive sections is rarely matched by the quiet sections. Part of this probably lies in the real lack of interest from Herod. The much maligned new "Dance", I found to be a triumph. It perhaps labours the whole, Herod, incest, paedophilia angle and withholds from the audience the respite that the Dance could bring, but strikes gold as an emotional hinge. Providing well needed depth to Herod (he needs all the help he can get) and contextualises at least some of Salome's madness. The executioner prowls about throughout the piece a terrifying figure with a huge blade in his hand, and when he finally rises out of the stage dripping in blood holding the head at arms length a real chill passed down my neck. The nudity seemed a little arbitrary, but it took away nothing from the moment.

London seems to be having a good run of Opera if you're game for a nasty night out (the ENO's Lucia di Lammermoor is another paedophilic shocker). Not for the weak of mind, from the start this is one grubby, putrid production and it's all the better for it.

Flight (Liepa Ballet Gala)

This was an evening with a dozen or so of the world's finest ballet dancers showing off. What's not to love. Well, Maria Alexandrova and Sergei Filin made a complete hash of their pas de deux. The Russians were, on the whole, less well rehearsed than the Brits and French. Although being Russians, in most cases, it really didn't matter.

The evening started on an unusual note with Ilze Liepa performing a solo "Dedication" to her father. A bit dull and hideously prop orientated. Forgive me, but waving about a long shawl doesn't constitute great dancing. A few beautiful images were conjured but basically it was dull. The first Royal Ballet performers were Tamara Rojo and Federico Bonelli performing the Esmerelda pas de deux, and they set out the British shop very nicely. Rojo pulled off an almost obnoxiously large number of turns, littering her fouettés with doubles and triples, and her balances were so long it felt like time had stopped. She is also the first person I've ever seen manage to make a tambourine appear to be an erotic object, so fair play for that. Bonelli did everything asked of him and more, presumably working out when to grab your partner is pretty hard when she's adding extra turns the whole time. He must also take extra points for being about the only male dancer in the evening to actually wear a top. "The Firebird" performed by Vladimir Derevianko was exceptional. The orchestra were weakest here (although were largely pretty good under the baton of Alexander Polyanichko) but Derevianko was working magic on stage. His arms whirled about as if they had lives of their own. Ilze Liepa and Mark Peretokin then performed the Madame Bovary pas de deux. A surprisingly moving performance, not altogether successful, but it certainly offered a diversion from the flash around it. Sergei Polunin is the Royal Ballet boy wonder and performing a solo in a gala is quite a coup for any dancer who only left school 9 months ago. The Bronze Idol Variation is a little abrupt however and didn't really give him a chance to strut his stuff. Svetlana Zakharova, who has abilities like very few others, was scuppered in her first effort of the evening by some poor lighting. The opening twenty seconds were in complete darkness and the followspot operator was somewhat less than well attuned to her movements. "The Dying Swan" seems like an odd choice for such an athletic dancer but she has beautiful long arms and this showed them off well. Finishing the first half was another tour de force for the Royal Ballet. Thiago Soares and Marianela Nuñez performing "Le Corsaire pas de deux". As ever, Nuñez glitters like a diamond. Partnered by Soares she just seems so happy and the effect is completely infectious. Not the finest technical dancer on show but one of easiest to watch. Thiago Soares partners her with such care and did a good job in his solo variation.

The second half began with an extract from Pique Dame which was totally compelling. Ilze Liepa was truly sinister and Dmitry Gudanov followed her just perfectly. I'd really like to see the rest of this piece, I've no idea what the contextual relationship between the man and the woman was but there was something powerful about the ballet which I can't quite put my finger on. Next came Maria Alexandrova and Sergei Filin performing the La Fille du Pharaon pas de deux. This was poor. They started badly with different leading legs and she fell early, which is fine, but clearly knocked her confidence. Filin's solo was fairly strong but their partnering just smacked of under rehearsal. Disappointing and not very Bolshoi like. The "Onegin pas de deux" is not my favourite bit of ballet. The mirror work is clichéd and a dream sequence is hardly a clever way of getting round the inability of ballet to portray a fifteen minute letter writing scene. Alina Cojocaru and Johan Kobborg are however endlessly watchable and Kobborg at least is perfectly suited to Onegin. They took massive risks with their lifts some coming off spectacularly, several less so. The "In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated" pas de deux is probably my favourite bit of dance out of the entire repertoire. Someone had to perform it but why couldn't it be one of the Russians? If youtube is anything to go by, Zakharova is seriously good at this. Agnès Letestu and José Martinez (of the Paris Opera Ballet) do a perfectly reasonable job but they lacked the precision and edge that is really needed. Next came the Balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. This was however the Lavrovsky version not the Macmillan which made for a nice change. Sarah Lamb (who is debuting in the role at Covent Garden in a couple of months) makes for a lovely Juliet, she nails the naive, young love. David Makhateli, I've said before and I'll say again, is not my favourite dancer. Far from it, but he did a fair job here although he looks too old (even though he isn't). Zakharova returned to perform "Revelation" a peculiar but affecting solo. I'm not sure what exactly she was supposed to be doing (drug addiction or something of that nature perhaps) but she was complete enthralling. It was simply a beautiful performance. The evening went out with a massive bang. Natalia Osipova and Leonid Sarafanov gave an explosive performance of the "Don Quixote pas de deux". Osipova spins like few others. She displays a wanton disregard to conservation of angular momentum, pulling off one more turns than seems humanly possible every time. Sarafanov has a massive leap and despite looking more than a little smug at the end of it all, was truly spectacular.

A fantastic evening. Surprisingly well balanced and a joy from start to end, with just the one minor blip.

Pina Bausch (Café Müller/Rite of Spring)

As the programme told me about every third line, Pina Bausch is a genius. This is apparently an undeniable fact. The rate at which she sold out this short run at Sadler's Wells suggests the paying public agree with this assessment. Despite this rather curious peer pressure, I at least attempted to go in with an open mind.

On the grounds of Café Müller, I'm at a total loss. I could probably sit through this piece a half dozen times and still never really absorb everything, although I'd be trying if I could get the tickets. Strangely compelling, for reasons I can't quite describe, every movement seems played out in slow motion. Enthralling but confusing. There are six dancers who each play a different character, each seeming to try and make a connection with another. The staging is powerful, yet simple. The stage strewn with chairs, that get liberally pushed and shoved about. Rarely does anyone bother to sit on one (the raison d'être of a chair usually) but they evoke the empty café beautifully. The programme notes (when they're not eulogising about Bausch herself) suggest this is the café that Bausch's parents owned when she was a child, and that the interactions on stage are inspired by her memories of the adults' relationships that visited it. I'm not sure that is readily evident on the stage, but I might just be being dense. My major gripe with the piece is that it elicited very little emotional response from me. For all the intrigue, I was far from moved. So reaching the interval, Bausch = Genius far from confirmed.

The Rite of Spring (comparisons with the Royal Ballet version are likely due to the fact that I saw it on Monday) is musically one of the most exciting ballets around and on these grounds at least this version was off to a rough start. This was a recording, blaring out of Sadler's Wells' terrible sound system (at least it didn't fail midperformance as has happened before). But then if you want a magnificent playing you go to a concert hall not a dance show. Whatever the music issues, I quickly forgot them. This is the most exciting, primative, visceral Rite of Spring you could imagine. Played out on a bed of earth each foot movement sends the peat flying. You can feel the fear from the very start. The dancers worship the earth out of more than just respect, they really appear to be fearing a higher power. Where Macmillan strips away the male/female differences in his version, Bausch uses it to add even further edge to the chosen maiden. The men (many built more like body builders than dancers) power about the stage, kicking up the earth like bulls on the rampage. The choosing of the maiden seems to rest purely on the alpha male, and being chosen means death. For the majority of the piece the dancers act in unison, but suddenly the maiden is very alone. She is repulsed from the crowd and dances herself into a frenzy before collapsing on the ground. As she fell, I found myself out of breath, realising I'd been holding my breath. This is enthralling stuff, every bit what it suggests in the programme.

I'm a total convert. Bausch's work is beyond brilliant. It might be difficult and uncompromising, but it has an inate power. I might not have been hugely effected by Café Müller at the time, but I can still picture the whole work vividly. Pity she comes here so rarely, I might have to sneak off to Paris to catch her again sooner.

Royal Ballet Triple Bill (Chroma/Drummer/Rite)

If you're looking for an easy, fluffy ballet, don't look here. Sylvia would suit you just fine. This really won't. Different Drummer is both fifteen minutes too long and about two and half hours too short. In conclusion, it's a bit rubbish. Chroma has a visceral thrill to it, but is otherwise completely impenetrable. The Rite of Spring, lacks the thrills it should have, but finishes the evening on a relative high.

Chroma was new last season and revived with good reason. I can't personally see beyond the movement to find any real substance behind it, but the style is totally different from what we usually see from the Royal Ballet and all the more exciting for it. Whilst on the whole it's stunningly performed, some dancers looked much more at home than others. Edward Watson and Mara Galeazzi are perfectly shaped for the hard, angular movements and made for a stunning partnership. Steven McRae transcended his effeminate costume to deliver another shockingly sharp bit of dancing. Ludovic Ondiviela didn't. In the pas de trois for three men, I had to reach for the binoculars just to check it was three men. The male costumes aren't ideal, they're pretty much the same as the female costumes, but he couldn't have looked more girly if he tried. Eric Underwood and Lauren Cuthbertson, two young dancers we don't see nearly enough of, both exuded intensity delivering magnificent performances. I can't get enough of Joby Talbot's music, his arrangement of White Stripes songs...simply perfect.

From the excitement of Chroma the evening rapidly deflates with Different Drummer a work that has hardly been revived since it premiered in the early eighties. Hardly revived for very good reasons. It's too long, doesn't make sense. Frankly it's boring. I know the story of Wozzeck and still only just managed to keep track of what was going on. Heaven knows what newcomers thought of this. Would it have hurt the Opera House to stick a brief synopsis in the programme? MacMillan packs forty minutes with so many ideas, following is literally impossible. I saw it twice, I still have very little comprehension of what on earth the Christ character was supposed to be doing. Why the decapitated head? Ignoring the ludicrous imagery, the dancing isn't terribly attractive. Prancing soldiers do not a beautiful ballet make. Both casts did the best with what they were given. I felt the final scene arrived rather suddenly with Ivan Putrov's Wozzeck, his sudden violence a little out of character, but otherwise he delivered a nicely angsty performance. Roberta Marquez is too dainty and sweet for marie, but her partnered work with Putrov was very fine. Edward Watson was made for MacMillan works with vast quantities of depression and he nails the slide into murder and suicide. He was perfectly matched by Leanne Benjamin, whose long sinewy limbs matched her desperation to survive. All the supporting cast performed ably, not that much dancing is required amongst all the faux sex that goes on left, right and centre. The music by Webern and Schoenburg is remarkably pleasant (considering the serialist nature of the composers) but the orchestra did not sound at their best, if the woodwind players would please join Wozzeck in the bath tub that would be much appreciated.

Closing the evening is The Rite of Spring an epic work that brings a vast number of the company on stage. This has dated a little, the splayed hands might have once looked primative and violent but now appear dangerously like jazz hands. When the whole corp coordinate as one, some startlingly simple movements acquire great power. Spread out on the floor doing horizontal star jumps, the whole stage seems to shift as if the earth stirs beneath. Pity that the chosen maiden decides to play hopscotch over them. Neither Mara Galeazzi nor Tamara Rojo managed to achieve much tension as the maiden. Rojo managed a tidy line in desperation but never really went anywhere with it. The orchestra were on top form here (under the new Royal Ballet Music Director) though The Rite of Spring score performed live is a thrilling experience in itself.

A very difficult evening and not a terribly well balanced one with the dreadful Different Drummer wedged at its centre. Still it was great to see Chroma revived (long may this occur, perhaps with different dancers next time?) and Rite is worth seeing even if it is fast becoming a museum piece.

Lucia di Lammermoor (English National Opera)

The English National Opera has been through some unfortunate times of late. Aside from The Turn of the Screw which was brilliant, they've served up mostly rubbish. (Aida wasn't all bad, mostly glitz though) Lucia di Lammermoor is a triumph. Remarkably, I didn't hate the English translation, although some lines I'd rather have said in a language I don't understand. This new production from David Alden is bleak, but visually interesting. He doesn't shy away from controversy with a particularly charged brother/sister relationship, but if unsubtle it's certainly visceral.

Anna Christy (who sent an apology in advance stating that she was suffering from throat problems, which I'm going to ignore because I can't abide wet singers) looks perfect for the role of Lucia (why not Lucy? since everything else is in English). Her tiny frame childlike inside the Alice in Wonderland style dresses. Her portrayal is strong on naivety but somewhat weaker on sadness. Whilst her distress is great at the moments of major suffering, being groped by her brother an obvious example, she lacked the overall world weariness, a girl isolated by the rules of society. By "Il dolce suono" however, she had the audience on tenterhooks. In a tiny white night dress, dripping in blood, she navigated this difficult aria with skill. It wasn't a showy, coloratura laden, candenza ridden performance, but a dramatically effective rendition that in context was extremely powerful. The appearance of the stabbed Arturo (no blood spared here either) led to a fantastic interaction between the two. Christy didn't power through all her notes with absolute confidence but her overall performance won the audience over. Barry Banks made for a decent Edgardo. His act II duet with Lucia was movingly genuine. I found the overall emphasis on him being a perfect gentleman a little forced, but Banks appeared so desperately in love with Lucia as to make his otherwise unusual actions seem entirely plausible. Mark Stone made for a truly unpleasant Enrico. The incestuous relationship he has with his sister is simply grotesque. He ties her to the bed before throughly groping her. Yet for all the comic villainy, Enrico remains a real character forced into these actions by the constraints of society. His desperate need to recover his financial situation and protect himself from political intrigue force his hand. Stone somewhat misses this depth taking the incest and creating a foul, irredeemable, character who cares little for his sister. The smaller roles were all handled ably enough with Paul Whelan singing at the side of the stage whilst Clive Bayley ate the scenery as Raimondo.

The staging from David Alden is fantastically bleak. Crumbling walls shift around the stage to provide a variety of locations. The backs of the walls are used late in the piece effectively showing the fragility of their whole environment. The opening of act III is particularly effective, a staircase being all that is required to create the tower that Edgardo is living in. Nicely integrated thunderstorm sound effects and a wind machine (always a plus) beautifully set the scene for the suffering that is to follow. The chorus movement however is a little messy throughout, especially in the final scene ruining the rather striking graveyard of pictures. Alden doesn't pull in any punches in showing the nature of Lucia and Enrico's relationship but whilst truly unsubtle (groping her just as she hits the big top note) it sets the audience on edge. Paul Daniel conducts strongly and top marks go for the use of a glass harmonica in the mad scene, though it gave me a bit of a headache.

Here is a production the English National Opera can be proud of. They've taken a potent opera, attached a respectable (if a little mischievous) opera director and employed a decent cast. Now lets have a revival of this rather than The Mikado (sorry but 13 revivals is too many for any production, however profitable) in the next couple of seasons.

Lord of the Rings (The Musical)

I thought this was the craziest thing in the West End, I had totally forgotten about "The Lord of the Rings, The Musical". Probably the silliest idea ever conceived. I'm not sure who thought this was anything other than a terrible idea. However, getting past the fact they've flayed one of my favourite books down to what feels more like the "Reduced Shakespeare Company", as a piece of stagecraft it's actually pretty good. This was my second viewing (the Thursday matinee is very reasonable at £25 top price, a policy I'd like to see elsewhere, including here, whose pricing makes me feel ill) having seen the production soon after it launched last year.

By attempting to complete the entire trilogy in three hours (with an interval), the creative team have, unsurprisingly, cut pretty much everything. We don't really get characters, so much as cardboard cutouts (with one very notable exception) who run around shouting. Forget political conflict, you're either an orc ripe for the slaughter or an Elf/Human/Dwarf (don't think I've missed anyone) to be praised having done the slaughtering. The actors seem to have been given a few simple rules:

1. Acting...don't worry. Just bark at someone, really loudly if it's something important or mumble it on the run if it doesn't really matter.
2. Singing...don't worry. If you're not either Arwen or Galadriel, you don't actually have any real singing, just a sort of speaking at pitch which can be easily managed whilst running and/or (actor's discretion) slaughtering.
3. Dancing...don't worry. The set will be doing it for you.

Worst offenders are the two most experienced members of the cast, Malcolm Storry and Brian Protheroe, the two classically trained ex-Royal Shakespeare actors. To be fair Storry, as Gandalf, has massive amounts of exposition (Tolkien condensed sounds very silly) that no one in the audience really gives a damn about, but he does genuinely appear to believe that if he shouts loudly enough, everyone will believe he's big and powerful. Sadly he was like a silly old man with dreadlocks. Copy and paste the above for a description of Brian Protheroe as Saruman.

Thankfully the younger members of the cast fair much better. That's mostly because they don't have much to say. Gimli and Legolas have about one line between them. However they are all excellent runners and slaughterers and that's what we all paid to see. James Loye is strongly cast as Frodo, managing a modicum of emotion in the later stages of his journey. He can also push out a song well enough when required. Michael Therriault is simply stunning as Gollum. The only character of any depth what so ever, he manages to rise so far above the material that not even the flying elves (I don't recall any flying in the books) can see him. His physical performance is unbelievable. How they will ever replace him I have no idea, he simply owns this role. Galadriel was the only part they had actually replaced since I went last and Stevie Tate-Bauer didn't quite have the pipes to replace Laura Michelle Kelly (the one star in the first cast). Galadriel is probably one of the hardest parts being called on to sing and sort of wriggle in some ropes all at the same time (no acting to worry about mind, the gold costume is far too distracting for anyone to notice). Tate-Bauer managed fine, she just didn't have a great deal of presence and her long wailing notes weren't quite up to scratch.

Right. Now I've got the whole cast bit out the way, I can talk about the set. This they got right. In every way. Rather than do the standard West End literal, if money can buy it, staging. Someone actually put quite a lot of thought into it. The floor is a marvel of engineering but also amazingly effective at conjuring up a great many environments. The battle scenes are beatifully done, more as massively complicated dances (with the set covering more distance than anyone else) than straight staged fighting. Everything is stylised, inventive use of sheets to create the icy mountain tops, a couple of big bits of fabric for Mount Doom. I have to say I love the way they've designed everything. Knowing they couldn't compete with Peter Jackson in scale, much is left to the imagination. Maybe, the elves fly one too many times and as cool as massive quantities of smoke are, maybe seeing the actors feet occasionally might be quite entertaining (hobbit feet, teehee...maybe). That said, more shows should use a wind machine. Very effective in the epic, battle speeches (Henry V perhaps) and cools the auditorium as well.

Now a brief passage on the music. This isn't really a musical at all. Aside from a couple of moments (I can literally only think of two in the three hours) the music is pretty much incidental. The characters sing to themselves as the trek through the woods, lots of drumming and a little bit of offstage female ululating during the battles. There isn't really any time for the characters to have a little sing about their emotions, we need to get through the remaining three hundred pages in the next twenty minutes. People complain that they don't come out humming the tunes, but the show doesn't really have any tunes so it's really an unfair criticism. If you want tunes, this isn't the show to see, but the atmospheric music is terrific.

This isn't a brilliant adaptation of the books, it isn't a brilliant, airheaded musical and perhaps it sits too uncomfortably between the two. There is much to enjoy here though. The staging is beyond impressive, not simply spectacular, but also carefully crafted. The world of middle earth comes alive on stage. The cast are playing with material even thinner than The National's War Horse and most (not Gollum, he was amazing) manage to do nothing with it, other than look really cool with their massive swords. This is every bit style over substance, but when the show's this stylish you've just got to sit back and enjoy.

The Mikado (English National Opera)

The English National Opera production of The Mikado has been revived time and again, and is in theory, a big money maker. I'm not quite sure why. At £83 pounds for a top price ticket, this is comfortably the most expensive musical in the West End. Whatever meaningful satirical content Gilbert and Sullivan once held, now this is simply fluff. The Lloyd-Webber of Victorian England. At two and half hours with very repetitive music (very pleasant music in fairness), zero emotional content and no fantastical set changes or special effects, this just doesn't cut it anymore.

Thank God it's sung well or I wouldn't have remained for the second half (pretty much the same as the first half with some minor plot adjustments). The pint sized Richard Suart is clearly in his element, reveling in his beautifully updated "Little list". Putting the Archbishop of Canterbury in, raised comfortably the biggest laugh of the evening. His impeccable diction put all others to shame. Surtitles really shouldn't be needed. Robert Murray and Sarah Tynan make for an attractive romantic couple although both mumble through their songs, proving why in this production the surtitles are needed. Graeme Danby puts in a solid performance as Pooh-Bah but he's hardly stretching his vocal abilities. The rest of the cast, meander through the piece well enough.

The English National Opera really need to put this production to sleep. Jonathan Miller's updating serves no real purpose aside from eliminating all colour from the stage. Leave Gilbert and Sullivan to the commercial sector, This lot seem to be doing a fine job, and put on some proper Opera (which they recently proved they are capable of). Currently the ENO seem to be devoting about half their season to musicals, in theory because they make more money. Ticket sales for Madam Butterfly say differently. If you want a decent musical look elsewhere. This is pleasant enough stuff, it has some undeniably good tunes, but everything else about it is dated.

James son of James

Michael Keegan-Dolan's work is always inventive, infused with humour but balanced by a heady sense of right and wrong. His latest piece "James son of James" loses some of the edge his previous work has had by using a script of his own devising. Gone is the broad, epic sweep of "The Bull". The story of an outsider's integration into an isolated village is painted in far too simplistic terms and the multitude of characters lack real depth. However this remains a very interesting piece from a choreographer of great potential.

He creates characters very quickly and efficiently (which is something of a requisite considering the vast number of them) using dance interpolated into the text. The whole piece has a smattering of songs, usually of a humorous nature although none as funny as in "The Bull", that serve to break up the action and usually occur at turning points in the play. The whole evening is very tightly constructed, raising laughs for the first hour before the atmosphere is punctured by the horrific ending. In fact things turn very nasty, very quickly.

The cast are uniformly excellent. Mani Obeya fills the role of James terrifically, his final monologue incredibly moving. Angelo Smimmo, the one actual singer in the group, is absolutely hysterical as the repressed homosexual doctor, who really wants to be a hairdresser. Daphne Strothmann makes for a perfect uptight mother, whose comfortable life sits on the edge of complete chaos.

The whole piece is mere inches from being absolutely fantastic. The tension that comes out towards the end, which is all the more powerful for the humour of the first half, is electrifying. It's just a pity that the dialogue is so simplistic, and maybe even a touch amateurish. What Keegan-Dolan can create in movement is simply superb, he just can't quite get the talking part right.

Die Zauberflöte (Royal Opera)

The Magic Flute is an irritatingly deceptive piece for me. Honestly, I can't quite work out if it's a fairytale with excessive, dry, German dialogue or an allegorical masterpiece with oodles of symbolism. I'm sure over time I'll shift towards the latter, but for now at least I'm confused. Sadly David McVicar's production is far from illuminating. For a, very literal, start the whole thing's so dark it's hard to make out what's going on. The action is moved to the enlightment period, lots of models of the solar system and curly, white wigs. This works fine in principle but the enormous grey stone walls that compose the set are pretty dull to look at after three hours, and lumber about the stage with a distracting whirr. The effects, that the opera is so famous for, are largely absent. The serpent is impressive enough but the ordeal of fire and water is abysmally staged. Dancers waving their arms does not constitute a difficult trial.

The singers thankfully largely make up for the shortfalls in the staging. Simon Keenlyside is superb bringing both great humour and surprising pathos to the role of Papageno. His near suicide is almost a teary moment. His physicality is exceptional, his pratfalls are a constant highlight, how he can sing through it all I have no idea. Even he struggles to wade through some of the speech but he gives an intelligent performance throughout. Christoph Strehl makes for a mediocre Tamino. I find he sounds like he is trying too hard, his tone a little rough, but this is personal taste. He lacks vocal heft and makes for a weak romantic lead. Genia Kühmeier makes for a stunning Pamina. She makes an absolutely wonderful sound and strings the music together in lovely phrases. Her rejection by Tamino is genuinely heartbreaking. Thomas Allen shows his class in a brief cameo as the Speaker. He has such amazing stage presence. Erika Miklósa has to work hard as the Queen of the Night. Her stratospheric coloratura in "Der Hölle Rache" was by and large pretty spot on, although her sustained B flat at it's conclusion lacked a little confidence. The three ladies were fine in their solos but didn't blend terribly well.

I'm glad I'm slogging through this again in a couple of weeks, I think I need the revelations that will come with repeat viewing. However I can't give the production high marks, it's just not clear enough. The second cast may make more out of it, although I suspect Christopher Maltman will struggle to reach the exceptional heights of Simon Keenlyside

A Midsummer Night's Dream (Royal Opera)

Sitting in the front row of the Linbury Studio, I was about as close to the action as I could ever wish to be. But I was damn pleased to be there. Britten's A Midsummer Night's Dream is an amazing work (although the first act drags a little), staged in a surprisingly effective (despite the modern flourishes) and vivid way. A young cast, of supreme potential, grace the stage, giving performances that ranged from perfectly reasonable to simply exceptional.

Staged in a manner that makes the newer "Tempest" by Thomas Adès seem like something of a companion piece. A vast range of neon accessories paired with dark, melancholy lighting conjuring a world of magic. The actors storm in from all entrances; hurtling down through the audience, sliding down poles from the ceiling and launching themselves through paper screens. If I have one complaint it is that Olivia Fuchs uses a few too many of her ideas in the first ten minutes and is left repeating them for the remaining three plus hours. But it hardly matters when the staging had such strengths. The gangway between the audience and the orchestra pit brings an unexpected intimacy. Indeed, several sections had singers literally twelve inches from my seat.

What marvellous singers they are. William Towers looks perfect as Oberon and his lovely countertenor sounds all the more potent in the smaller Linbury space. Gillian Keith was wonderfully ethereal as Tytania, her tiny frame producing a surprisingly aggressive sound in her argument with Oberon. The four central dramatic roles are ably filled by Ed Lyon, Jacques Imbrailo, Daniela Lehner and Katie Van Kooten. This exceptionally young quartet all produced remarkably mature performances with Jacques Imbrailo a particular standout as Demetrius. The non-singing role of Puck was filled by the impressive dancer Jami Quarrell. His peculiar, cod fairy accent grated a little but his physicality was superb especially in a slow motion sequence where he entwined himself in a long hanging rope. The Mechanicals were probably the most disappointing group with some iffy acting and in several cases abysmal diction. (no surtitles here) However as Bottom, Matthew Rose simply stole the show. He produces a tremendous, round sound with perfect diction but also finds the time to create a living breathing character. His transformation into an ass, is a marvellous bit of theatre, a massive man galloping about the stage with a wild abandon. Andrew Kennedy fails to make an impression in the first two acts but comes into his own in the third. He is clearly having a ball in the final scene, leaping around the stage in a tiny dress and red lipstick.

This is a stunning, original production with a brilliant young cast. I couldn't recommend it more.